


The World Through Troubled Eyes

by thescarletcentaur



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:16:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescarletcentaur/pseuds/thescarletcentaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew he saw the world through troubled eyes. All the same, she never asked questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Through Troubled Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies, I am back. 
> 
> This time I am not in the other AU universe I began endeavouring into, my apologies. 
> 
> I really enjoy writing with music as my stimulus. This piece is inspired by Cry by James Blunt. From all the stick he gets, I think he is pretty incredible. Personally, his first album (Back to Bedlam) is my favourite.
> 
> I just want to clear up something before you read on. I like the character of Laurel that we currently have on telly.
> 
> Enjoy.

To this day, Felicity can happily say that she has witnessed Team Arrow at peace. A rare moment but a moment none the less. Something was out of pace when she walked into the foundry to find Digg tucking into a take away from Big Belly Burger. Surprisingly, Oliver had joined him.

“Should I be worried because to me, it looks like you two are taking a break?” Felicity questioned, tapping her foot anxiously.

Oliver glanced up at her, “Relax, Felicity.”

Felicity never thought she would hear him say that in a million years.

“Relax?”

“We are going to take a much needed break.”

“We never take breaks—“

“That is because it isn’t usually your birthday. Why didn’t you tell us?!” Digg frowned.

Suddenly, a loud bang filled the room. Oliver immediately grabbed Felicity’s arm. Digg ducked almost as quickly. Felicity felt for the gun in her pocket, thankful that she hadn’t taken it off when she got in.

“It’s just me!” Sara’s familiar voice rang through the foundry, “Is she here yet? I hope not. I’ve got the cake. Nearly ruined it on the way in...Felicity?” She trailed off as she walked down the steps.

“Surprise?”

“It’s meant to be the other way round. I guess we aren’t as stealthy as we seem.” She chuckled as she laid the cake down on the counter.

Felicity sucked in a breath.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” Sara looked quizzically back at her.

“3…2…1… We are not having cake anywhere near my precious tech. Nope, don’t even think about it. Don’t look at me like that, I don’t want your sticky fingers anywhere near my babies,” Felicity’s eyes narrowed in Oliver’s direction. “Stop laughing at the sticky fingers comment, it wasn’t intended like that and you know it.”

“Still cute when you’re angry,” Sara smirked.

“Stop that,” Felicity picked up a piece of cake and flicked it in Sara’s direction.

It took Sara a minute to process what had just happened. She seemed shell shocked that Felicity had managed to aim it pretty accurately, Sara quickly picked some cake up and flicked it back.

Soon, the foundry was filled with laughter and shouts of “not near my tech!” and “stay away from my arrows!”

Felicity was thankful for this, a rare light hearted moment in between all the darkness.

* * *

 

The darkness never went away for long.

Felicity’s favourite feeling was after a mission when everything had played out exactly as they planned. The silence in the foundry would be comfortable. Maybe she could go even so far to say it would be peaceful. Unfortunately, this was not how everything always panned out. It didn’t always end with Oliver coming in with a grin on his face, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Sometimes, it ended in pain. Pain in the form of bullets. Sometimes knives. Occasionally rope burn – Felicity still teases Oliver about that, to this day.

So when Oliver stumbled into the foundry without Diggle, Felicity panicked.

“Where’s Dig?”

Oliver didn’t reply, instead he stood in what seemed to be dazed state.

“You know, 6 foot 2, big muscly looking guy?” Felicity said as she peered round Oliver’s body to see if there was any sign of him.

“Not the time for joking, Felicity,” Oliver grimaced, gestured towards his side. “He was following behind me, he’ll be here in a minute. Or two.”

Felicity took a step back. It was unusual for Oliver to grimace in pain. Grimacing in frustration, yes. Grimacing in anger, yes. Pain? Never. Her eyes quickly scanned over him before her eyes rested on his side.

“I-is that what I think it is?”

Oliver let out a long exhale. “A gunshot wound.”

“…A real gunshot wound?”

“Yes, a real gunshot wound. Could you pass me the stitching kit?”

“Wait, you are going to do it yourself? Oliver, it’s on your back. How are you going to reach?”

He winced in pain as he shifted his torso in an attempt to reach it. No luck.

“Oliver,” Felicity warned.

She took the kit and quickly went to work on the wound, the thought of Diggle lost as she desperately tried to stop the steady flow of blood that was pouring from Oliver’s wound.

“You don’t think that maybe we could go to the hospital?”

“No.” He kept his answer short.

“Digg?” Felicity called back as she fiddled with the needle, “I might need some help with the stitching this time. Digg?”

Stumbling through the door came Diggle.

“Hey, man. Next time you’re going to hightail it out of there, fancy giving some warning? A nod will do. Just something so I am not left surrounded by the bad guys.”

“Y-you _left_ him?” Felicity stuttered.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Oliver winced again.

This time Felicity wasn’t so sure that it was from the bullet wound.

“You know what, I’m going home. I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t go thinking I won’t want answers, Oliver. For now, maybe not. Tomorrow? A full explanation. You can’t just do that.” Digg sighed, heading towards the door.

Oliver rose from his seat slowly, “I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow,” Digg signalled with his hand raised before heading towards the door once more.

It banged shut. Oliver slowly sank back down into the chair. An uncomfortable silence filled the space. Not a word was spoken from the two of them. Not even when Felicity finished stitching the wound. Felicity knew better than to ask. She learnt to hold her tongue. She might have had a million and one questions at the ready but she never asked. Not once. Oliver would say something when he was ready and she was prepared to wait. She knew better than to rush him. 

“Finished,” She trailed her hand down his back, feeling his muscles tense underneath them.

He turned to face her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, she recoiled in shock before retreating back to him. No words. Just a gesture. Somehow, she understood.

Taking his hand, she intertwined their fingers together. His calloused hand contrasted with her softer one but she preferred it that way. She flicked the switch so darkness fell over the room. She led him towards the spare mattress in one of the darker corners of the foundry.

Lying down, she waited for him to follow. No movement.

“Now or never,” She whispered through the darkness.

Movement. Slightly stunned, she reached for him through the darkness again. He lay beside her, the silence present once more.

She felt him shift a tiny bit closer. Encouraging him, she shifted back to fill the space between them. Then she shut her eyes. Felicity didn’t expect answers. Sometimes she thought she might be the only person in his life who didn’t.

It was only when she felt a slight wetness on the shoulder of her t-shirt that she opened her eyes again. She debated on whether she should make him aware. He probably already knew. Instead, she settled on closing her eyes again. She couldn’t stop him from seeing the world through troubled eyes but if laying there with him filled even the smallest part of the void Oliver seemed to feel, she would lay there for the rest of her life.

Felicity Smoak knew the many sides of Oliver Queen. The Oliver Queen that Felicity Smoak saw, was the best side to Oliver Queen. She might not know it but she saw Oliver in the best light despite how he thought he was her darkness. When he thought he was the night, blocking out the sun, Felicity thought he was the stars. Even when she could feel his tears leaking onto her shoulder, he was still her hero.

Sometimes, Felicity called it his ‘rebirth’ in her head.

The Oliver Queen that she knew was no longer a playboy baby billionaire who squandered his money away on tasteless nights with tasteless people. That Oliver Queen was long gone. He disappeared long before Oliver made it home from the island. Now, Oliver was growing into himself. It was taking him a while. However, this was Felicity’s favourite version of Oliver Queen. The Oliver Queen who rolled his eyes at her rambles, the Oliver who had rescued her countless times from the danger of deranged psychopaths to the time she nearly got a paper cut but most of all, the Oliver Queen who cared for her more than anyone else had cared for her before. Her Oliver.

Her Oliver, who was in a peaceful sleep beside her with not a frown line in sight.

Their fingers were still intertwined.

* * *

Felicity felt more than guilty when she thought about Barry Allen. No matter how many people assured her that  _the_ accident had been nothing to do with her. Ultimately, she felt as if it was her fault. She played back how she could have done things differently. Over and over and over. Until she could no longer remember the events that had unfolded. The events were just a blur.  It didn’t make it hurt any less. He was still six feet under and she was still paying for it when she shut her eyes.

She never took a day off work. Felicity likes to try to ignore the pain the pangs in her heart. Keep busy is her mantra. In the beginning, Oliver and Digg tread on eggshells around her. In the middle, things start to return to normality. There is no end. Felicity puts on a convincing act. She smiles when she is meant to smile. She even rambles like she used to. Most importantly, she has Oliver fooled. Once she had him fooled, she thought there was nothing she couldn’t do.

On a dreary Monday morning, someone left an envelope on Felicity’s desk.

Shock ran through her when she opened it. Within was a grinning photo of Barry.

‘A memento,” The note beside it read.

Rapidly the room seemed to be shrinking around her. All she wanted to do was sink to the floor. Felicity felt like she was drowning.

So when Oliver confidently marched in with a client, he immediately turned back around and ushered them out. Moments later, he was there with her in his arms. His red-rimmed eyed Felicity, sobbing into his shoulder as the tears cascaded down her cheeks in waterfalls.

Just like he had, no questions asked, all those nights ago.

* * *

 

The days fly by. The days turn to months. The months turn to a year. The seasons change. The heartless winter nights because bright summer days. The crunchy autumn leaves, leave. They are replaced by new leaves, growing on the trees through the better part of spring. The number of villainous psychopath’s they face never seems to dwindle. Sara stays. Diggle leaves for a while, something about ‘unfinished business with Lyla’ and Roy holds on tightly to Thea. Diggle returns, this time with a new born son in tow. Felicity puts her demons in front of her and faces them. It takes her longer than she cares to admit.

The only thing left is Oliver and Felicity’s dynamic.

They remain the same.

A constant between everything that seems to change.

Felicity’s confidence in the dynamic takes a hit when Oliver crawls back to Laurel and they give it another shot. This time, they seem to find their own rhythm. It goes at a steady pace and somehow, they seem to be fixing things.

Felicity is left in the rubble.

She watches him go. She doesn’t bother to wait this time. Men come and go with Felicity, too. Except she never settles. None of them have her heart like Oliver does.

She hears about their engagement on a Thursday. She still gets his updates sent to her phone because god knows they still need to be alert if they are in the crime fighting business. She almost ignores it, thinking it must be some kind of joke. It isn’t. Every news channel plays it out. They show the milestones of Laurel and Oliver’s relationship. She cries for three hours. The only reason for leaving her bedroom is for another tub of mint chocolate ice cream. Somehow, she doesn’t think her favourite flavour can fix her problems this time.

Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as she thought.

Maybe her Oliver was not _her_ Oliver after all.

When he turns up drunk and begs her not to tell Laurel, she lets him stay. He nearly wakes up her neighbours and she thanks her lucky stars that no one has called the police orworse, the press. She cannot handle the press banging down her door because Oliver Queen chose to come and see his Girl Friday instead of his beloved fiancée.

When he whispers “I love you,” in his sleep, she desperately wishes she had never heard those three words.

When he opens his eyes a minute later, she wishes he would shut them again.

He closes them again and entwines her hand in the same way she did so long ago in the foundry.

She has to leave the room.

When the pictures of him leaving her house looking worse for wear appear in the paper the next morning, she braces herself for a distraught Laurel banging down her door. The press seem more appealing now. Sure enough, Laurel appears at her doorway approximately five hours and twenty one minutes later.

She bans Felicity from speaking to Oliver again. Oliver follows Laurel’s orders. Felicity does as well.

Felicity wonders if this is what it’s like to have your heart broken. She can almost see the scattered shards of hers on her floor.

* * *

 

A persistent knocking sounds at her door at two in the morning. She shakes off Harry from her body, he has a grip like a vice which she would rather live without.

Oliver never held onto her _that_ tightly. His presence did not need to leave nail marks on her hips for her to know he was there.

Leaving the bedroom, she grabbed the baseball bat from its hiding spot before peering through the peep hole. Digg would be proud.

First, she recognised the stubble. Second, she notices the bags under his eyes. Last, she focuses on his eyes themselves. Clear as crystal, bluer than the tropical oceans that she knows he hates.

Trying not to make any more noise than necessary, she flicked the latch. The door swung open and he rushed in. So much for no noise.

“Felicity, I—“

She tapped her foot impatiently, “What are you doing here? It’s been _months._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Oliver sighed. He was clearly struggling with his words but she never once forced him to go on, “I didn’t realise… I really didn’t realise. She is not what I want. Laurel is… Laurel. I was still trying to desperately get back to pre-island me. I wanted some familiarity. I never achieved that. You were my new familiar. Hell, you felt like old familiar. I made a mistake. I made the biggest mistake.”

The pair turned in the direction of a creaking floorboard.

“Baby, are you coming back to bed? What are you doing up? Round 2 on the cards? Oh, we have a visitor…” The voice trailed off.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Harry. Go back to the bedroom,” Felicity spoke sharply.

“I didn’t think…”

“You never do.”

He winced.

She didn’t apologise.

“I better go…”

“I’m not going to give everything up because you realised you missed out on something, you know.”

“I’m not going to give up because you are everything, Felicity.”

She raised her voice, anger cursing through her veins, “You don’t get to say that Oliver. You _left_ me. You were _engaged_ to _her._ I am not your second option. Now please, leave.”

“Felicity, plea—“

“Get out, Oliver.”

He left.

She walked back to Harry, dread weighing her down.

She wanted to yell at Harry to leave. She wanted Oliver to put up more of a fight. She wanted to ignore Harry’s whine for round two. She wanted to go back to that night in the foundry so she could tell Oliver how she felt. Maybe then, they would have had their happily ever after. Somehow it seemed unlikely.

Harry never intertwines their fingers before they fall to sleep.

* * *

 

Harry and Felicity break up relatively soon after. He cites his excuse as “different pieces of the wrong puzzle” whatever that means. Really, Felicity is hung up on… other things. In fact, when Harry finally broke up with her she felt relief. Last she heard, he was with a girl named Sally. That made Felicity howl with laughter (it may have been the wine) because of the way the world worked.

Oliver appeared on her doorstep on a Tuesday evening. They had begun to take steps to introduce each other back into their lives. Bottle of fancy red wine in tow, she invited him in.

The slow introduction went out the window. The clink of glasses started with “for old times’ sake” and ended with unspoken words that resulted in Felicity pouring her heart out as Oliver left sloppy kisses down her neck. They took it in turns to share their feelings. Oliver had never been great at sharing. He managed it, this time.

It took a turn that neither Oliver nor Felicity were expecting. This time both of them had tears in their eyes. For things that they had missed out on up until this moment.

The tears dried, the wine wore off and sleep called them.

The sofa was painfully uncomfortable but Felicity no longer cared. All the mattered was Oliver’s and her fingers being intertwined, just like all those nights ago.

Except this time, she knew that he would still be there when she woke up.

He would be there time after time, until she took her final breath.

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Have a good day/night!
> 
> P.S want to find my elsewhere? I am on tumblr at olicitysmoaking! 
> 
> xo


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